The Dance

*6*

'Whoa, chill.' she replied. 'I'm classically trained, which isn't much use in your world, I'm guessing. I'm not trying to hide anything; it just hadn't come up until now.' Emma leaned toward him, trying to use her most reassuring tone of voice. She wasn't sure why this reaction had happened.

'Okay, well, tell me more about all this.' Prince crossed his arms and legs in a protective manner, closing himself off. An expression of distrust masked his face. Emma was reminded of articles she'd read revealing how frequently he had been betrayed in his business life.

Who knew for sure about his private life and the hurts he had suffered? There had been gossip and unconfirmed rumours for years, since he was so intentional about his privacy. She had never heard or read of him speaking of his personal life in a negative way, except admitting once in an interview that people who knew him and said unpleasant, unprofessional things about him behind his back did hurt his feelings. 'Yeah,' she thought, 'I probably don't have a clue.'

She took a deep breath. 'Well, here goes,' she thought.

'Okay, here's the thumbnail version of my life. When you were getting your career started, 1976-1983, I was in college and grad school for degrees in classical vocal performance, and met my husband. I sang some opera, but it wasn't a good fit for me. I got married, saw Purple Rain, added that album to the Prince collection I'd already started, and kept buying and listening to you. As a musician, listening to your ability to perform in multiple styles and meld styles together was fascinating, and I've loved funk since the 60's.'

'Thanks, that's very kind. Go on,' Prince wasn't relaxed yet, but he wasn't bristling anymore.

'By 1990, you were an international superstar, and I was singing oratorios and classical church music and finally pregnant. I became a stay at home mom. Now we were listening to Mickey Mouse, Veggie Tales, oldies from the 60's and 70's, and Mozart. We lost our middle daughter to a miscarriage late in the pregnancy. Our youngest daughter was born the year before your son was born.

'By the way, I was so sad for you when news broke about the birth of your son and the issues he might have. Before we heard you lost him, I considered sending an email of encouragement. I didn't feel condolences were appropriate since we'd never met.

'I know that was an awful time for you. I've often thought of you in the autumn. We didn't get to spend any face to face time with the daughter we lost since she didn't make it full term, and you had a week to bond. That bond that's created when you find out you're going to be a parent deepens instantly the minute you meet your child, as you know, and to have it end so quickly-I would have been shattered. Your courage in promoting your independent career move while dealing with grief was impressive to me. You could have caved under the pressure, but you continued on.'

'Thank you for that,' Prince said sincerely, a cloud of remembered grief passing over his face. 'Go on.'

'9/11 happened. I went back to public school music teaching, and found I loved teaching young children. Gene became the chief chauffeur for our girls, as his schedule was more flexible.

'I taught-listening to you in the car on the way to teach and to classical singing gigs-until 2012 when I received the settlement from the accident. I finally felt I could live simply but more happily without the stress that accompanies being a teacher.

'Now I'm an assistant with our church's children's choirs, teach some voice and piano, and enjoy my daughters. I still sing with the choir I toured with years ago, but as a volunteer now. It's the young gals' turn to sing the solos in the diva dresses. I've told you how this trip came to be. This is the first time I've used my passport since 2008.' Emma leaned back, taking a breath. 'Anything else you'd like to know? I don't have a lot of secrets, truly.'